A Dragonborn by any other name
by TheGoldenDragonborn
Summary: Two sisters can change Tamriel's history. Two sisters can unite Skyrim, unite the Empire, or they can tear it all apart. Two sisters are older than anyone would imagine. Two sisters are a secret, and an enigma to all. Minor AU, Pairings to come THERE WILL BE CHEESE!
1. Prologue- Hero of Kvatch

**A.N. I'm sorry if I confused anyone, just realised I posted the wrong story. Please forgive me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the ideas in my head. I don't own the Elder scrolls series or anything you may recognise.**

_Lena hurried through the night, keeping to the shadows. She was careful to avoid the guards, she didn't know where she stood in the eyes of the law at the moment. Finally she reached the door and knocked, three long, one short. Jauffre opened it, a suspicious look in his eye._

"_Lena?" She simply nodded._

"_I need to talk to you Jauffre…. It's about Martin." _

_He sighed and opened the door, letting her in before shutting and locking it again. He didn't know why she had insisted on all the cloak and dagger, he much preferred being straight-forward. Lena sighed, her gold-toned skin pale in worry and exhaustion. She took off her cloak and laid it on her arm, before turning to face him, raw fear in her eyes for the first time he had seen. She was cradling her hands around her stomach protectively. _

"_Oh." Came his simple response to the revelation. _

"_Five months at least."_

"_You're sure it's his?" _

_The Altmer didn't even bother to reply, instead springing up to start pacing. "I'm not handing my child, OUR child over to the wolves of politics. She'll die before she reaches her first birthday."_

"_She?"_

"_Just a feeling." She continued pacing, before stopping and turning to face him again. "Jauffre…. I killed a man last night. Me. I haven't slept since, but he found out…. He found out who the father was. I couldn't let my child get thrown to the politicians."_

_Jauffre suppressed his shock, though he did suppose she was just like one of those mother bears protecting her cubs. Already his mind was racing. "If you killed a man… That means the Brotherhood might try to claim you." He held up a hand to silence her cry. "Let them. Join, and do whatever you have to do, but keep the last Septim alive. She will be Dragonborn, and I have a feeling we will need her help sooner rather than later."_

**Five years later – Bravil**

_Lena settled Gwen, named after her father's Daedric friend Sanguine, on the front of Shadowmere's saddle, before swinging up behind her, wincing as she got a kick in retort from her midsection. She winced, but trotted the black horse out of town, trying to explain why the little girl couldn't see her poppa shadow anymore without scarring her any more than had to have happened after spending the first four and a half years of her life with the Dark Brotherhood._

_She finally was able to convince her daughter to be quiet, though she patted her black hair with her free hand as she rode. She was to be a listener, she was to rebuild the brotherhood in Cyrodill, but at the cost of her Shadow, her Lucien. She rested a hand on her midsection as she rode north, wondering if this child, like her Guenivere, would have her build, but their father's overall colouring. _

_She rode the pass to Skyrim easily, she needed to find another Speaker and she had been told by the Night Mother the next Listener, her assistant, resided there. She would be away a few months, but she had to leave her children somewhere safe, in case one day she didn't come home._


	2. Next Prisoner!

**Disclaimer: I don't own TES, or I would be a very rich person, and make the player character able to be a Jarl and/or High King/Queen, and/or Emperor/Empress. What can I say. Power is FUN!**

It appeared to be the end of a long journey…

Ralof studied the unconscious girls sitting in the cart to pass the time, wondering what they were going to the block for. They weren't his Stormcloak brethren, caught in the ambush like they were; or he would recognise them. Probably sisters, both with long hair, one a rich brown, the other jet black. They were strange and exotic looking, as if they had walked off the plains of oblivion. They had high cheekbones, and tilted eyes, like any typical mer, but their colouring was human, apart from maybe a slight hint of gold. He wondered if perhaps they had elven ancestry, maybe half or quarter blood. He noticed them stirring, and deduced the sleeping poison must be wearing off.

"Finally waking up I see," Ralof offered cheerfully, then caught his breath. Their eyes were… striking. The slightly taller girl on the left, had rich, sapphire blue eyes, more saturated than he had seen on any of his fellow Nords. The other, with the raven hair, had brown eyes, the colour of chocolate. The brown-eyed girl leaned against the other, looking around angrily, as if she was fuelled by an unseen flame.

"Where are we?"

"In Skyrim. Bound for Helgen by the looks of it."

They shared a look, obviously alarmed by this news, and he deduced they probably weren't expecting that answer.

"Weren't you caught trying to cross the border?"

The blue eyed girl answered this time. "Yes. We were just trying to get through to visit… friends and the next thing we knew we had walked into an ambush." She seemed oddly calm, for someone heading for her death, though her eyes said she was in no way resigned to her fate.

"Quiet prisoners!" Grunted the cart driver as they rolled down the last hill into Helgen.

It seemed they were nearing the end of the line, for there was a general standing there, accompanied by an arrogant looking Thalmor. The carts rolled into the courtyard and the prisoners were ordered to dismount, _So the Imperials could check their lists. Damn lists. _The thoughts ran through Ralof's mind unintentionally, as if it was trying not to think about what was happening.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm" called a tired looking captain.

His Jarl stepped forward, they had gagged him like an animal, but he walked, dignified and head high, to the area directed.

"Ralof of Riverwood." Ralof glared and faced him, and he realised it was Hadvar, his childhood friend, checking the list. A few more prisoners were called and they stopped, leaving the two girls. One seemed to have a chain on under her ragged clothes. He looked again and it was gone.

"And what's your names?" Hadvar asked.

The taller one stepped forward. "Guenevere Se…" She was stopped from finished her word by a nudge in the back by her sister. She composed herself "Guenevere of Cyrodill."

Hadvar raised an eyebrow at the slip, but didn't comment, instead asking the other.

"And you?" There weren't any slip-ups this time, she stood unwavering.

"Luciana. Also of Cyrodill… like my sister."

Odd names they were, and the slip intrigued him. Ralof watched Hadvar consult his list again.

The Legate appeared bored. "They're not on the list."

"They go to the block anyway," Hadvar sighed, and looked to the sisters. "I'm sorry," He didn't meet their eyes. "I'll make sure your remains are sent back to Cyrodill."

Luciana's was about to reply a scathing remark but was cut off by an ominous roar from the mountains. "What WAS that?!" she spluttered. Instead though she didn't get a reply. Instead the ignorant imperials continued to act like nothing was wrong. They went ahead with the first execution, a female warrior murmuring with pride that the soldier was as fearless in death as he was in life.

"You, with the blue cat-eyes."

Gwen stepped forward, head high, knelt, and whispered a prayer . With resignation she placed her neck gently on the block. Her lips stayed moving as the headsman raised the axe. A rush of beating wings, her prayers were answered.

**A/N: **This is my first Elder scrolls fic that I've ever come anywhere close to putting up on the site, and I appreciate all constructive criticism. I'm only really starting with fanfiction and I know you can tell. I have read so many other wonderful stories that have given me so many ideas but I was looking through the stories and I realised two things. One: I haven't read an Altmer/part Altmer Dovahkin fic before, and Two: I haven't seen anyone put together the Dragonborn/Dragonborn Emperors/Septim ideas before. I just played around with it and here's the result!


	3. What next?

**A.N: Sorry about how late this is people, I've been trying to write it but Helgen was being stubborn.**

Escaping from Helgen was a blur of corridors, rooms and tunnels. Gwen ran through the old keep with a flame spell in one hand and a sword in the other. Hadvar hadn't been amused when she stopped to skin the bear, but she defended herself, she could sell it, or tan it into leather. When the pair finally emerged into the fading daylight they cowered behind a rock as the dragon flew overhead, hopefully departed for good.

"I hope Lucia got away alright." Gwen remarked, looking back at the cave behind them. She had a feeling her sister was alright, but she did have such a knack for getting in trouble.

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Hadvar remarked, looking over the valley and starting down the road, before looking back to see if the girl was following. "Riverwood's this way. My uncle lives there and I'm sure he'll be able to put you up for a bed for the night."

Gwen blinked, surprised by the offer, but started after him. "Thank you. Not many would offer such hospitality to a stranger." Hadvar guided them toward the road, looking around occasionally for signs of others.

"I think o it this way. If you were going to kill me, you had ample chance already. I know you were a prisoner, but your name wasn't on the list, which makes me believe it was a mistake. I know you're good with a sword, and can hold your own in a fight, but I don't know anything more about you, which makes me curious." He continued chatting on the way to Riverwood, pointing out landmarks and local scenery. Finally the pair passed under the walkway that marked the entry to the small village. Gwen was introduced to Hadvar's uncle Alvor and offered a bed for the night, which she accepted only hesitantly, with much prodding from Hadvar.

She settled into the hard bed as best she could a few hours later, hand absentmindedly holding her amulet, which she was determined to keep hidden. She sighed and shifted. Tomorrow was another day, and Lucia was more than capable of taking care of herself. She would make her way to Whiterun in the morning and maybe try and find a job there. It shouldn't be too hard. With that thought, she rolled over and fell gently into sleep.


	4. Just another day in Whiterun

**Disclaimer: do I have to do this every chapter? I don't own TES or anything you recognise, but we all know that.**

**A shoutout to freewheeler26, my very first reviewer! And I'm sorry for the slow update.**

_Breathe._

_Embrace the shadows and they won't see you._

_Breathe._

_They're building a pyre, how many bodies._

_Breathe. _

_Where are the others? Where is Lucia?_

_Breathe._

_Sumerset, gone, Vvanderfall, taken by the Tong, High Rock, Black Marsh, all the shadowscales, dead, Cyrodill, the heart, the Lucky Old Lady, defiled, Elseweyr, her own home, the bodies the pyre._

_Breathe._

_Draw the dagger, silently. Vengeance, no-one crosses the brotherhood._

_Breathe._

_The smoke, billowing, a dark cloud across the jungle._

_Breathe._

_A touch of metal, blood, a scream._

Gwen's scream in her dream, nightmare, was enough to wake the whole house, which she apologised endlessly for. Corinthe was gone, as was all her Dark brothers and sisters but her only blood relative, who was now missing. She left the small village but hours later, heading off down the road to Whiterun with a message. The town was visible over the plains as she heard the sound of fighting breaking out. She drew her sword and raced off, not being the master of subterfuge fighting like her sister. The giant was finally fallen, with a sword to the hamstring, but the girl was gone before she could be spoken to.

She pulled up the hood she had taken from the mages' body in Helgen, leaving her face in shadow. The guard stopped her at the gate but a quick word… and the mention of Helgen and she was in the city. She looked up the hill toward the castle, before sighing. She didn't want to go face another puffed up, pompous fool who would think he had authority over her. Instead she headed straight ahead, catching sounds of a market on the wind as it gusted. She browsed, selling the few things she didn't need, and took notice of where the general goods store and alchemist were, in case she needed to do a little… 'shopping' later.

Heading into the inn, Gwen leaned on the counter, smiling readily. She opened her purse. "A drink please. And any news if you could." The woman wiping the bar propped her chin in her elbow.

"Depends what you want to know."

"Any bounties? Rumours?" The innkeepers were always a good source of gossip, and often there were bounties there for adventurers.

"Jarl's men dropped this off the other day. Giant been attacking farms in the area. As for rumours…" her voice dropped, and she leaned closer. "They say the Thieves Guild has its headquarters in Riften, city of scum that is." She almost spat the words and Gwen filed the information away in her mind for later. After a few hours of listening to the bard's songs, the picking of a few pockets, and a hired bed later, Gwen sat, and pulled her amulet out from under her clothes. The red gem pulsed softly, and she ran her fingers over it's many-faceted face. If she listened carefully, she could almost hear a soft singing, and she still wasn't sure whether that had always been part of the stories of not. Of course she knew what she held, and why she held it, but she WASN'T an Empress. She was a person who preferred to melt into the shadows than stand in the sun. She didn't think anyone would appreciate having someone with her… tendencies as their ruler. Anyway. It was time to sleep, and sleep she would, and deal with this dragon business in the morning.


	5. Shakedowns and Pockets Picked

_A ring a ring of rosies,_

_A pocket full of posies,_

_A tissue, a tissue,_

_They all fall down._

Gwen sighed as she sat up, the old tune running through her head. It had been over a century since she played that game last, but she still remembered it as clear as if it was yesterday. They all fell down in the end, whether they served Talos, Sithis or even Nocturnal. Eventually they all fell down. She clambered out of bed and pulled on her clothes, picking up her pack. She sight wistfully, wishing she still had her armour, it had been soft, not heavy like so much other amour in this land, but still strong. But it was no use wishing for what she didn't have. She needed some armour, and for that she needed gold, and to obtain that she would need to find a fence, something difficult to do when you weren't part of the guild. So that was another thing on her list. She really should visit the Jarl, give him the news… but no. The dragons could wait. Knowing her luck he would send her on some quest, to kill something or find something, which she would need to find armour for. So she had to go to Riften, and join the Skyrim guild.

Not two hours later, her bundle lightened significantly, having sold all the things that either weren't stolen, or weren't traceable as stolen, Gwen stole out of Whiterun, as the sun was still rising over the walls, and trotted down the hill to the carriage, hoping the driver was out of bed and there. Nocturnal was favouring her it seemed, he was simply sitting at the carriage, looking around. "How much for a ride?" she asked, eyes fluttering.

"Depends. Where do you want to go?" It seemed her flattery wouldn't get her anywhere, so she lost the act, standing tall and proud.

"Riften."

"That's a rough city for a girl like yerself. But if ye insist. 20 gold."

She drew her breath in sharply. That was rather expensive, and she could take the road, but then it would take longer, and she would have to deal with bandits, and while she could use the gold, the inconvenience would be a pain. "Fine." She handed over the money and clambered into the cart, settling in for a bumpy ride.

The wagon was not bothered by any bandits as they plodded along the road, leading Gwen to believe the driver must have an arrangement with them, especially when they were waved past a fort. But that suited her just fine, giving her a little information on the man. She spent her time looking around, mentally noting any landmarks she would visit when she had time and armour. Finally they arrived, and she leapt down, thanking the driver, and walking towards the gate, until the guard stepped in front of her.

"Halt. Before entering the city you need to pay the visitor's tax." Gwen simply laughed, seeing the shakedown easily. They could at least have been a little more creative about it.

"Nice try, but I'm not going to pay a shakedown." The guard cringed.

"Fine. But keep it quiet. Let me unlock the gate." He did so and she entered the city, nose wrinkling almost immediately. Some burly big man tried to speak to her, intimidate her, but she brushed him off. She followed the path across the bridge, hearing the sounds of a market, and stood, leaning against the wall of an inn as she surveyed the scene. The merchants seemed legitimate, instead of one. She simply shook her head at his antics. Falmer-blood elixir? Ridiculous. She bet it was tomato juice, or something similarly ineffective.

It was time to make her move, while he was distracted, and while there were no guards around. She may not be good at subterfuge in killing, but she was a good thief. She dropped into a crouch, sidling up behind him and gently moving her hand into his pocket, closing around the first things she found. A key. Good. She would bet it wouldn't open anything, but it was a good thing to make a point with. She drew it out, and stepped back, going around the well in the centre to spin the large decorative loop around her finger, making sure to let it catch the light. He smiled.

"Can I help ye lass?" She stretched lazily, keeping hold of the key.

"Fine state your guild must be in, if it can't even keep watch of it's own pockets." Her words didn't have much of a visible effect on him, not to the untrained eye, but hers took in the tightening at the corners of his eyes, the glint that ran though them, the sour note in his laugh.

"You looking to join then? I hope you don't mind helping…?" She frowned, her eyes piercing.

"I do mind. I just picked your pocket… here's your key back by the way. And now you want me to do your dirty work. Doesn't that usually happen AFTER one joins a guild?" She had her arms crossed now, tapping her foot. "Obviously I am competent, or I would not have been able to pick a guild member's pockets.

"Alright, alright lass. You've made your point. Meet me at the Ragged Flagon, in the Ratway, and I'll introduce you to Mercer. You'll be his problem then." Gwen had her suspicions she wasn't supposed to hear that part, but she smiled, waving her fingers at him.

"Meet you there."


	6. Old friends, New beginnings

**A.N. Sorry this took a while to get out, my editor decided to go away to China, which brought my writing to a bit of a standstill.**

Gwen grinned as she walked off from the stand, heading over to the blacksmith's and entering a conversation, which turned to haggling over a set of light armour. She would bet this Ragged Flagon would not be easy to find, and the Ratway, full of scum. She casually asked where the entrance was, posing it as a question about a bounty, and received an answer. The door was near the marketplace, down the stairs, leading to a sewer by the sounds of it. How terrific. But she kept the cheerful smile up as she found a place to change, stripping down and putting her new armour on quickly and efficiently. Then, it was time. She descended the rickety stairs, treading carefully lest they collapse beneath her, and eyed the footbridge with distaste. It looked as if it would collapse at a moment's notice, but she her sharp blue eyes caught the door across from her. There was nothing for it but to try. Though it creaked dangerously, it held as she crossed, and she smiled darkly, pushing on the door.

The Ratway was dark and dingy, lit only by torchlight. She ducked into a side alcove as she heard voices up ahead. It seemed to be a pair of bandit-types, nothing too difficult to take care of. A few fireballs and all that was left was a pair of charred corpses and some still-smoking coins, which she pocketed. No use wasting them after all. Her journey continued in this way, getting lost few times, and almost being killed by traps, until she came to a well-lit room with a table in the middle, and another scumbag. She dispatched him easily, and walked to the door, pulling out her cloak from her pack and pulling the hood up, concealing her face in darkness. It was time.

Gwen pushed the door open cautiously, ears straining, picking up the sound of conversations, as she took in the room, with the dingy pool of water, and the planks covering it. She skirted the edges, looking at the sign to confirm this was the right place. The Ragged Flagon. Ragged it was. She inclined her head to the bouncer, and walked softly up to the group near the bar, recognising the Nord man's flaming hair.

"I took care of your Skeever infestation for you." Brynjolf seemed to start at her words, causing the man across from him to grin.

"Maybe ye're onto something Bryn. Not many who can sneak up on you." Gwen chuckled, keeping the hood up, and offereing her hand.

"I'm guessing not many can pick his pockets either. I'm Gwen." The man, Breton, by the looks of it, and highly amused, took her hand.

"Delvin. Delvin Mallory." He shook it, firmly, with a twinkle in his eye. "Ye' ever tire of Bryn here and I'll show you what a true master can do." Gwen flinched, almost unperceptively, and her eyes cooled.

"I think there's enough bastards in my bloodline. But thankyou for the offer." She deflected him, and turned to Bryn, who seemed amused, but also curious at the display. "What now?" He grinned.

"Now we put you to work." Gwen groaned slightly, and rubbed her eyes.

"Isn't there somewhere I can unload first?" The redhead snorted.

"Tonilia's the fence around here Lass. But she won't sell or buy anything to you if you're not a full member yet." Gwen grumbled under her breath.

"Fine. Let's get this over and done with then."

The first job was over and done with easily, she asked for the money, she wasn't given it. She threatened objects, and she was. She returned to the flagon, and finally unloaded, eyeing Delvin, until it finally clicked where she had seen him.

"Delvin?" Her voice carried across to where he was in conversation with Brynjolf, about introducing her to a Mercer. He grumbled, but came over.

"Yes Gwen?" His brow perked, and she reached up to her hood, pulling it back, and revealing that distinctive face, causing him to take an unsteady step back. "Guenivere. It has been a while. Almost didn't recognise ye." She laughed.

"It may have been a while for you. You grew up." And it was true. Gone was the teen she had once had following her around like a lovesick puppy, when she had visited Skyrim last. "Scratch that." She took another look at him. "You grew old."

"Old?" he said, in mock-hurt. "Not everyone lives for centuries girl. And I prefer to think of it as vintage." She simply snorted, and linked her arm through his, half-afraid he would ask about the brotherhood.

"Let me buy you a drink and tell me what I've gotten myself into. I can meet this Mercer later. " She directed the last to Brynjolf, who was looking on with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't he the one you were always getting into trouble, and fights with? Remember all those stories you used to tell." She grinned, and before long they had a table in a corner, and drinks in hands, catching up, like old friends.

**A.N. Two: Please tell me what you think of this. I know it's a bit off-track, but if she's been to Skyrim, and been with the Brotherhood, I believe it is entirely possible that she knew Del when he was sent to the sanctuary. Constructive criticism, and ideas are welcome.**


	7. A Sister Returns

**A.N. My apologies if I get the areas wrong, I usually approach the sanctuary cross-county but I think Lucia would take to the roads. For now at least. And a forewarning, I have warped the brotherhood lore… just a little.**

**Meanwhile…. In Falkreath Hold.**

"Up the path, past the town, look to the right, then go down." Lucia muttered under her breath, walking sullenly along the road. She had spent the last few days away from people, after waking in a cold draughty cave. She already missed the warmth of southern Cyrodill, or the hot deserts of Elseweyr, where she had spent her time. She just hoped the old rhyme was still correct, and the sanctuary hadn't moved in the last century. Or been lost, like the others. Finally she found a path, which seemed to fit the description, heading slightly downhill into a small grove, with a pond. And the door. That was when she knew she was on the right track. Frantically, she searched her mind for the passphrase, it had been so long, and stepped up to the door, placing her hand on the matching print.

"What is the music of life?" The door asked, eyes glowing, voice cold and gravelled.

It hit her, the answer she remembered her mother saying, so many times… her mother… but she pushed the thought away. "Silence my brother."

The door scraped open, groaning, with a whispered "Welcome home, sister."

She smoothed her dark robes, the best she had been able to procure, and heard voices, mostly unfamiliar, but a few vaguely triggering her memory. Then a child's voice, old beyond her apparent years cut through.

"You may choose to be unconcerned, but that is not Festus." A low growl seemed to agree, as mayhem was heard to break out. Lucia sighed, and descended the stairs. She couldn't be sure of the reaction, but would have to speak quickly to ensure she wasn't killed. She spoke in return, knowing there would be at least two assassins around the corner, throwing her hood back.

"No. I'm not that impudent boy Babbette. I know it's been a while but surely you remember your friend." There was a squeal, and a small shape pushed between the pair, throwing herself at Lucia, who let out a small whomph. She chuckled, and wrapped her arms around the small girl, who gave her a wide smile, revealing her fangs.

"Lucia! You're alive!" She stepped away, and dragged her to the main hall, where there were various others gathered, all dressed in muted burgundies and black. They all looked curiously at the person their small friend was half-dragging in. Babette grinned. "Brothers, sisters, this is Lucia. She has been part of the family almost as long as I have." Lucia smiled, and inclined her head.

"How do you do everyone." She wasn't sure what to make of the looks she was getting, having the feeling she had upset something. She tilted her head quizzically. "Is the Mistress of the sanctuary in?" At the words, a blonde figure pushed through the crowd, and crossed her arms. The face was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She hadn't been to Skyrim in a long time, far longer than her sister. The honey tones triggered something though, a memory.

"We didn't think anyone from Cheyindal was still alive, except the Keeper. Is he with you?" Lucia's eyes flared in alarm.

"Cheyindal's gone?! I was attached to Lleyawin. And mother…." She sat abruptly on the ground, paling. "Corinth is fallen also, Gwen, the Speaker, and I barely escaped with our lives." She was panicking, that much was obvious. She keeled over as everything went black, the last thing she saw being her friend's worried face.

Some time later, she woke, in an unfamiliar bed, in a vaguely familiar room. She groaned and sat up, pinching the bridge of her nose, and looked around. A voice startled her, though she should have been expecting someone would be put on watch over her. "You're awake," The voice came from an ashen skinned woman, a Dunmer, who was sitting near her. "You caused quite a stir back there. We haven't heard any news from other sanctuaries in…. quite some time." Gwen inclined her head, acknowledging the words.

"As far as I know, this is the only one left. Wayrest may still be open, but we've lost contact." She chuckled softly. "I probably should have written, but I was a bit distracted when we were taken as we crossed the border."

"We?" The woman inquired.

"Oh… my sister and I. We travelled together. I don't know where she is though. We were separated…." She trailed off, mind flashing back, before she was distracted by the smell of food. "Is there something I can eat?" Her companion laughed.

"Yes of course. It was Nazir's turn to cook today, so you're in for a bit of a treat. I'm Gabrielle by the way, Nazir is the Redguard, Babette you obviously know, Astrid is the Matron, with Arnbjorn as her husband. Who does that leave… Festus is the grouchy old mage, he's back now and Veezara is the Argonian." Lucia nodded, trying to keep the names straight, and stood, brushing herself off.

"Alright. I'll introduce myself properly… this time hopefully without so much…. Drama." Gabriel nodded, and led her out to the kitchen, where a steaming meal was laid out, with everyone sitting down around.

"Looks like our guest woke up just in time." This came from the blonde, Astrid. Lucia inclined her head.

"I apologise for the problems Matron. I haven't slept in a while and I suppose it got the better of me." Astrid gave a smile at this, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It is fine. And we have reason to celebrate, knowing another dark sister survives. Please, sit, and eat. You must be hungry." Lucia nodded again, and took a place, helping herself and digging into some of the aromatic food, looking around the table at everyone else occasionally. When she finished, and looked up again, she realised she was once more the centre of attention. Babette spoke up, leaning on the table eagerly to look at her.

"So… tell us a story Lucia… and try not to faint in your soup."

**A.N 2: Yes I know I know I'm leaving it on a bit of a cliffie, but there's gotta be something to keep you guys coming back right?**


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